A Plausible Fairytale
by Kitara Lira
Summary: Relationships aren't perfect and at times lines are crossed, actions taken or words spoken in which we cannot take back. Warning: Contains promo spoilers to Prom Queen and course language.


**_:: A Plausible Fairytale:: _**

_K.L. _

**Warning: **Course language and promo spoilers from Prom Queen

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><p>It was a night of celebration, of flaunting wealth in the form of silks and satins, and of hierarchy.<p>

It was the one night to emblazon into your memories, a glorified image of years of scholastic dedication. In the morning nothing will remain but the lingering ache and fragmented memories. But that won't stop you from chalking it up to be the best moment of your seventeen years. It's what you've spent twelve years working towards, why shouldn't it be amazing?

Mask in place, smile adorned, rework the fragments into a plausible fairytale so that ten years from now when your son or daughter asks you what it was like you can say it was everything you ever dreamed and more. Forget the hollow feeling in your chest as you walk through the doors alone. Forget the pieces of your heart that you left on the stoop. Forget the tears that you wept. After all what's one more twisted truth in the scheme of things?

_::I'll say my piece and then I'll go away::_

Everyone knew the punch was spiked. It was predictable; expected. To be honest had it not been you would have been disappointed. For it is this red coloured liquid that gives you courage.

After your third glass you feel the effects trickling through your body. It reminds you of the first time you ever sipped liquid courage. It reminds you of both the pros and the cons. But most of all it reminds you of her.

And her is precisely where your feet take you. Though a fog is settling in, it's not enough to damped thoughts of logic. This was her night, all she asked for. Your emotions, if possible, are more freely expressed when on the brink of inebriation, you know this. Should you cross paths at this very moment you fear the words you know will leave your lips – your argument still fresh – and yet your feet refuse to still.

There she stands as magnificent as ever. Her beauty causes you to forget the very reasons for which you fought. But as you see him reach her side, wrapping his giant paws around her slender waist, it all comes rushing back. It was over him as it always seemed to be as of late.

Your eyes narrow, your pace momentarily stilled. Oh how you wish that you currently possessed the heat vision power of Superman, you'd make him perish without so much as a second thought.

It is when he leans in to place a chaste kiss to his princess's lips that you break; the liquid courage is enough to blind you to your promise. She's not his. Never was.

In all your pink gowned glory you storm up to the couple. You take a deep breath because heaven knows you'll need it. And with all the might you can muster you throw yourself into his bulk frame sending him tumbling back. The action does not go unnoticed drawing the attention of those within ear shot.

"What the hell Rachel?" And there she is helping the poor stunned boy to gather his footing having the audacity to look upset.

But you're too long gone to care; you can feel it in the way your chest heaves and your nostrils flare, "Keep your paws off her Hudson." Not only is your voice stone cold but you swear you hear yourself growling like some rabid beast, caged, tormented and just begging for release.

Her eyes narrow further however before her words can leave pale lips the boy, Hudson as you've so kindly referred to him, interjects, "What the heck Rachel? What's gotten into you?" His light brown orbs fill with concern, a concern you want nothing more to smack from his face.

"You're my problem." And this time you know you growled, feeling the reverberations in echo through your chest, "Take your slimy paws off my girlfriend and back the fuck away." You know you'll regret this all later but to be honest you're a little too far gone to put much thought into that. That was later. This is now.

The strings that tie you to sanity snap and you make to lunge, to claw his eyes out and break each and every finger that ever caressed her. Your face fractures with a grin when you hear a sickening crack beneath you – karma.

It is her scream that draws you back, caging and locking the beast in an instant. Your blood runs cold. You look down to the bloody mess below you, surely you broke his nose. Then you raise your gaze to meet hers. Not even the dim light can hide her tears; hide her fear.

He pushes you aside sending you careening to the floor as your muscles fail to work. "What the fuck Rachel!" He tosses his gaze from my crumpled form to her weeping form; back then forth, again and again. "Someone explain to me what's going on!" If my actions weren't enough to draw a crowd then surely her scream and his anger were enough to summon masses.

She can't speak and I can't meet her gaze. And for once he seems to understand, "You're lying" His trembling fingers point towards me, "You're lying!"

It is then that Karofsky leans in toward her ear no doubt whispering the hurtful truth, "Quinn Fabgay." You can see it in the way her beautiful hazel orbs widen. Pleadingly you reach for her but like water she slips through your fingers. Gone.

You can hear his cries, Karofsky's snickers, Santana's disapproving sigh, it all echoes in your ears as if it were the blood rushing through your veins. And you're on your feet, shoving your way through the warm bodies. You have to find her. You can't lose her. Anything but her.

Perhaps it is fate that it is in the washroom you find her, all the major pieces of your relationship seemed to have transpired here. Your first conversation. Your first kiss. Your first fight. So many firsts. Now all that rushes through your mind is the hope that this time will not result in another first. A first loss.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry," Your voice is more hoarse than when struck ill with laryngitis, "I didn't- I just-" Only around her do you lose your articulate words.

In a flurry of baby blue she's turning, her hazel eyes on you. The intensity is too great causing you to shy away, shrinking back into yourself. Why does she have this power over you?

"You did this!" Why tonight? Of all the nights. You promised her. "You did this to me!" It was one more night, all you had to do was hold jealousy in check. One more night and you were home free.

She's coming at you like you've never seen her before, with a rage that you yourself had been possessed by moments ago. Though this time it's not of jealousy. This time it's of hate.

Before you can usher your next words your head is reeling to the right a searing pain rolling through your body spawning from your left cheek.

It's silent.

"Oh God," You can hear the sharp intake and you don't need to see to know she's cry, this time for reason completely different. "Rach," She's trembling you can hear it in her words, "I-I'm so sorry." She's reaching toward you and your body in autopilot tugs you back and out of reach. "Rach please," For the second time that night your feet have a mind of their own and they drag you further back, each step closer to the metal handle which beyond that lies open stretch and beyond that freedom. You won't let the tears fall. Not until you know she can't see; can't hear.

And like that you're gone, heels clacking across cheap tile not stopping when they hit pavement. You run until your legs give out beneath you. And there alone, lying God knows where, you embrace the blackened skies and to them you cry your heart and soul.

_::I'll say my piece and then I'll go away::_

It's been a week and all you crave is her but you refuse to give in. Days are spent ignoring phone calls, obsessent knocking and searching eyes. The number of doorways you've leapt in and the number of minutes missed in class and at night are wearing at you. You can't avoid her forever.

When you finally see her again it's been nine days six hours and thirteen minutes and God you feel so hopeless for knowing that. The only reason you've returned to Glee is to end the miserable begging of Kurt and Tina. You have to think about Regionals. You have to think about the team. But how can you think about the team and sing when you left your heart on the bathroom floor shattered and trampled?

Of course it is her hazel eyes that you first see as you walk through that familiar frame. They look so dull, so lacklustre, and the dark bags beneath them echo your own. The second thing you see is the other individual you've been avoiding and it brings joy to your heart for the first time in what feels like forever. There he is with a blackish bruise nearly ten days later adorning his cheek and nose region. The nose splint is the icing on the cake.

Head held high you march to the seat beside Kurt not bothering to acknowledge the hazel eyes you know are upon you. Now all you have to do is survive the next sixty minutes and you're home free.

As Mr. Schuester shuffles in, late as always, he makes no note of your appearance. You doubt he ever even noticed your absence. "Alright this wee-" The man stills as he takes in the upright arm, shock apparent on his man-whorish features, "Yes Quinn?"

The moment her lips part to speak you melt. You know you shouldn't have come. Fuck you should have just left Lima while you had the chance. "Mr. Schue I have a song I'd like to perform."

Bewildered, all he can do is nod and motion to the floor before him before seating himself in one of the maroon chairs, "The floors all yours Quinn." God why is he eyeing her as though she's grown a second head? If you weren't so focused on maintaining your mask of disregard you'd remake his face just as you did Finn's. So instead you permit your self to will a world of pain upon him.

"Last week" The pregnant pause is the tell all, a reflection of her inner most turmoil. Or at least to you anyways. A lump appears to have formed in her throat and after several attempts she manages to swallow, "Last week," She starts again, " I-" A long rush of air leaves her. You know she's struggling and you wish nothing more than to just hold her until all her fears and worries are gone. But you hold your ground. "There were circumstances that weren't… optimal. And I crossed the line, hurting someone." To make a point she turns her gaze on you and if looks could touch then at this very moment she was caressing the fading mar on your cheek. "Someone who means the world to me." You can see the glistening pools gathering and it takes every fibre of your being not to join suit. "I just hope that she can find it in her heart to forgive me." The next words cause heads to turn and you feel twelve sets of eyes upon you. "This is for you Rachel."

Tentatively she moves toward the piano, exchanging soft words with Brad. In an instant he's gone and she replaces him her trembling fingers crawling across the keys.

You remember the first time you heard her play, it had been an honest accident. Normally no one arrives that early and when you heard the notes rippling through the hall you instantly fell in love with the phantom pianist. It was nothing like Brad when he played, the notes were so raw and beautiful no doubt a reflection of the soul. When you glanced through the open doorway and saw her back turned to you for some reason you weren't surprised. There was always something so beautiful and mystifying about her that drew you in.

"_You walk when I run."_ The words were not of any song you recognized, _"You talk when I'm stunned, you're real when I'm fake." _However it wouldn't surprise you if the lyrics were not that of any one other than herself, _"You're strong when I'm breaking down."_ One of her greatest secrets was her music; the diaries dedicated to songs to which only she knew the words. "A_nd I'm breaking down."_

Her eyes lay closed, the tears cascading in streams and falling silently to the ivory keys, _"You're home when I'm lost. You know every line I've crossed. You're close but this time I've gone too far."_ The words clung to the heart you swore stopped beating the moment her palm connected with your skin, _"I'm holding on to hope but taken back by fear, knowing what I've done and why I'm standing here," _As the next words escape your eyes meet. You no longer try to pretend. Instead you wear your heart on your sleeve just where she found it, _"If you don't want me to stay_ _I'll say my piece and then I'll go away."_

Your knuckles turn white as your grasp on the chair becomes nothing short of pins and needles. Oddly enough you don't feel it, _"I turn when you stare. I've tried to show I care but soon I'll find out if I'm too late,"_ For it doesn't outweigh the ache in your chest, _"I'm holding on to hope but taken back by fear."_ Leaving the keys she makes her way toward you, hands clutching at the fabric covering her heart, _"Knowing what I've done,"_ She stops just shy and you wish nothing more than to close the mountainous gap between you, _"And why I'm standing here. If you don't want me to stay I'll say my piece and then I'll go away." _

The silence that envelops the room is unwelcome and if your mind wasn't so occupied with the fragile creature waiting on baited breath before you you would will your mind to make the schools marching band appear.

You're not entirely sure how much time has passed – second, minutes? – but what you do know is she's growing more frantic and if you don't act now she'll run right out that door and out of your life for good. Is that what you want?

No.

Speed you didn't know you possessed are at your beck and call as you're in her embrace before anyone can bat a lash, stealing the very breath from her.

It isn't until you hear the uncomfortable squirm of Finn, leering remarks of Noah, and the silent and not so silent cheers that you think to break your lips from hers. The gaze in her eyes is that of a daze and if you didn't know her lung capacity you would think you'd of suffocated her. And so instead of panicking you kiss away the trailing tears and tighten your hold about her neck, the height advantage being yours courtesy of the risers.

"I want you to stay," You whisper into her ear, seemingly drawing her back to the land of the living as you feel her arms about your waist tighten. Again you feel your tears brewing and your whisper falls a decibel, "I'm so sorry I brought us to this point."

Her response is to bury her nose in the crook of you neck, peppering tendering kisses to the exposed skin, "Don't you ever apologize Rachel Barbra Berry," Her voice is so hoarse – raw – and as it always does it sends shivers down your spine, "You had every right to do what you did." You feel her body leaving yours and before you can think to protest she's wiping at the tears you didn't know you had and sporting that light smile meant only for you, "Just next time you feel the urges of jealousy try not to break anything."

You scoff at her humour but sense the underlying seriousness in her statement, "I can't make any promises but I will promise you that I will try my hardest to refrain from injuring nearby objects be them inanimate or animate."

And that seems to be enough for her because she's getting closer again, sending your vision into a cross, before capturing your lips. God how you've missed this. The way your lips meld to hers makes you feel as thought they were made for each other. That you were made for each other.

This time when you break apart it's but a fraction of an inch, "I love you Rachel." She whispers against your lips before stealing yet another kiss.

You break away, "And," pressing a kiss to her left eyelid, "I," followed by her right, "Love," creeping down to her nose, "You," and ending with her lips. You attempt to convey every emotion you've ever felt for her through the connection of your lips. And somehow you think it works.

_::I'll say my piece and then I'll go away::_

It was a night of celebration, of flaunting wealth, and of hierarchy. It was a night of broken words and broken hearts.

And what you tell your son ten years later isn't of a glorified night made to be a plausible fairytale but the truth. Of a tale of lust, love and loss. The memories aren't fragmented; they're beautifully broken and mended. In awe he watches as you retell the tale of your past, present and future. And a part of you can't help but wonder: how will his fairytale end? What trials will face him in the years to come?

Your head tosses to and fro as you shake the questions from your mind, tucking him under the covers and offering him his night kiss. His story will come in time but for now let him enjoy the delights of first grade and of his outdoor adventures untainted by the trails of love.

Standing in the frame that separates the hall from your room you can't help but allow the love you feel to shine through, encompassing your lips in a bright smile. There in your bed, reading glasses dawned with her mind no doubt lost in the words of fiction, is your happily ever after. Your love. Your life. Your Quinn.

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><p><strong>AN: **This was inspired by the promo for Prom Queen and the song _I'll Say My Piece _by Chester See. I recommend the song, it's absolutely beautiful and my favourite thus far. I doubt I'll watch Prom Queen (just as I haven't watched most of the second season) so this is what I'll hold as canon just as I'll continue to ignore the existence of Lucy. But enough chit chat. I hope you enjoyed this.


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